


Tomorrow

by peppermintquartz



Series: Finn's Playroom [6]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Dark Past, F/F, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inappropriate Use of Vagina, M/M, Multi, Past Violence, There will be violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27385378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintquartz/pseuds/peppermintquartz
Summary: Becky's past has come to exact its due.
Series: Finn's Playroom [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1230122
Comments: 18
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

Becky’s wiping up a spill on one of the tables when Joe suddenly strides into the bar, grabs her by the arm, and hauls her into the blind corner, behind the thick wall that separates the bar from the storeroom and the office. She is about to snap at him for the rough treatment when she hears the main door open. The CCTV monitor mounted in the storeroom shows Finn walking in, followed by a tall Japanese man with a half-shaved head and a perpetual smile that _just_ borders on 'deranged'.

_Shinsuke Nakamura. The Empress’s personal assassin._

Becky's blood runs cold.

Joe holds up a gun - his trusty Glock 17, from what Becky can see over his shoulder - and barks at Paige to get into the kitchen. The rest of the patrons remain in their seats, eyes wide, ready to hunker down if (or when) Joe starts shooting. 

“The fuck you doing bringing him here, you Irish bastard?” he asks Finn. “You get ten seconds to explain before I shoot him and then you.”

“They have Sasha,” Finn says, holding his hands up, palms open.

Nakamura shrugs. As always, he looks incredibly cool in his red leather jacket. “The Empress want Becky,” he drawls in his Japanese-accented English. “For a chat. Short, simple talk. Nothing... _bad.”_

Becky’s heart is racing. She forces herself to take calm, even breaths; she clenches her fists so that her hands won’t shake. The last time she met the Empress face-to-face had been in Tokyo, before she was sent to New York, and she knows she’s had a target painted on her ever since she failed to hold up her end of the bargain. 

Joe is an immovable wall in front of her, his gun trained on Nakamura. “If all she wants is a chat, she can come here by herself. Why involve Finn?”

“Because Finn Balor is... how you say... negotiator,” says Nakamura. He lounges against the bartop, entirely relaxed. Becky has no doubt that the man already knows where she is. The rest of the patrons all lean away from him; the air itself feels thick with tension. “Becky, she stay here with you, Empress don’t come near her or you. Empress keeps her promise, she don’t come here. But she think, Becky is scared, she will not go to Empress if she ask. So she send me. I come here, invite her to meet Empress.” He smiles. “Is courtesy.”

The broken English is an affectation, Becky knows; Nakamura is fluent in six languages, but pretends otherwise. It's partly to make others underestimate how much he understands, but mostly for his own amusement. The assassin does almost everything for his own fun.

“Joe,” Finn says, “please. I swear, I wouldn’t have brought him here if I didn’t think it really is just a chat. And they have Sasha.”

The redhead takes a long, shaky breath, and pushes her way past her boss. “Thanks, Joe,” she murmurs. “I’ll go with them.”

“It’s your funeral, Red.” Joe lowers his gun less than half an inch, his finger still resting on the trigger. “Let me know if I have to hire someone new.”

“Fuck you, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” Becky crosses the room, patting Finn on the chest as she passes, until she’s in front of Nakamura. She tilts her head, and the Japanese man grins at her before motioning to the door. “Can Finn come with me?”

“Of course,” says Nakamura. “His partner is our guest. He will want to pick her up.”

***

They end up at the Playroom. Finn is stone-faced, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced with icy rage. Becky has no doubt that if the Empress were anyone else, Finn would have already gone for his trusted butterfly knife. 

Shinsuke Nakamura whistles idly as he follows Finn and Becky into the Playroom’s office. 

“Becky is here,” he says in Japanese to the masked woman with multi-hued hair, currently perched in Sasha’s chair with her feet propped on the table. She tilts her head at Nakamura and nods slowly; the man leaves with a bow. Two pretty Japanese women clad in black are behind her chair, one with a compass rose tattooed on her left shoulder, and the other a soaring seagull on her right. Kairi and Io. The Empress’s pirates. 

The woman removes her mask, revealing the Empress’ face. She is as beautiful as Becky remembers, almost girlish when her eyes widen with delight. 

“Finn Balor,” she says, Osaka-accented voice light and airy, swinging her feet off the desk. “Prince of Tokyo. How long has it been?”

“Just a short while, _Kōgō-heika_ ,” says Finn. He takes a deep breath. “Becky is here now. Will you please let Sasha go?”

“Okay. Kairi, tell Tozawa to release her,” the Empress says. She never stops smiling, and she looks _nice_ , but this is the same woman who once dug out the eyes of an enemy with her bare hands before throwing the poor sod into Tokyo Bay; she's clawed her way to the top of the underworld in Japan, fighting and defeating those on either side of the law to establish her own empire. The police can’t touch her. The yakuza can’t kill her. People are _terrified_ of the Empress. Three years were all it took for the Empress to establish her court as one of the most ruthless and most territorial of gangs.

Becky was in those battles, back in the bad old days, when losers didn't get to go home and lick their wounds. They were fed as chum to the sharks. 

Kairi calls someone on her cell, her tone bright and cheerful. As she chats in rapid-fire Japanese, she winks at Finn and pulls a face at Becky, like she's playing a game with children. When she hangs up, she shrugs and says, "Okay! All done."

“If you want to check, you can go to parking lots, see for yourself.” The Empress finally looks directly at Becky, her smile unwavering. "Becky and I can talk, woman to woman."

Finn seems torn between going to be sure and staying to protect Becky. The latter wishes she has the guts to tell Finn to go make sure Sasha is okay, but she is definitely scared of what the Empress will do to her. 

At the same time, part of Becky is relieved. The worst case scenario has happened. It's been five years of living in constant vigilance, always an eye over her shoulder. She knew Finn pulled some strings to secure a deal with the Empress to leave her alone, as long as she is in Los Angeles, but she has always suspected that the Empress still wants Becky to pay for her betrayal.

“Go,” she says, knowing that her fear is in her voice.

“Becky-”

“ _Go._ Make sure she’s okay.”

The Empress waits until Finn has exited before she motions for Becky to sit. The two young women move out from behind the Empress, standing behind the redhead, and Becky thinks, _I hope Charlie won’t know how I was killed._

The Empress swivels the chair until she is facing the redhead, and switches over to Japanese, her Osaka dialect rough as ever. “You owe me three lives, Becky.”

“I don’t understand,” says Becky, fists clenched on her thighs. Her Japanese is rusty.

“Ah, she thinks she can pretend to be stupid,” the Empress calls out, conversing directly with Io and Kairi.

“You were supposed to kill the Flairs, father and daughter. Instead, you sleep with the girl.” The Empress sighs and shakes her head. Becky bites the inside of her cheek. _The girl. She’s Charlotte Flair. She’s far more than just ‘a girl’._

“ _Gaikokujin_ cannot be trusted with simple tasks,” Kairi says in English, slowly, clearly mocking Becky. 

“That is true,” the Empress agrees with a mild smile. She waves a hand. “Still, I got what I wanted. You breaking the girl’s heart meant that she made mistakes, and I got Tomorrow into New York. What is that line from Shakespeare?”

Io recites, “ _Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow._

The Empress nods. “We can barely supply enough to meet the demand. New York, the city that never sleeps... thanks to _me_.”

Tomorrow causes its users to experience time dilation, and Becky knows its effects well. She’d tried a very mild form of it once. Three hours had felt like an entire day, and she had been so relaxed at the end of it, she hadn’t reacted to a gun pointed right in her face. The stronger doses of the drug doesn't have the sedative effect but adds the kick of a stimulant, allowing people to do more in a shorter period of time. 

(The crash afterwards for the more concentrated form lasts longer too, so people just took another dose of Tomorrow, and another, and soon you can't stop taking it; it's the miracle drug of productivity.)

“If you got what you wanted, why do you still want to meet me?” Becky asks.

“Like I said, you owe me three lives.” The Empress shows her three fingers. “Ric Flair. Charlotte Flair. _Rebecca Lynch._ ”

“Well, if you’re going to kill me, then be done with it.” It’s a foolish thing to say, but the dread is worse; Becky knows the Empress likes her mind games.

The Empress laughs, throwing her head back, and wags her finger at Becky. “No, not so easy. First you pay me back two lives, and if I am happy with your service, you get to keep the third.”

Becky stands up. She immediately feels the chill of a blade on the back of her neck, but she does not sit back down. “Finn already made a deal for my life and the Flairs, so I owe you nothing.”

“You owe me _everything_ ,” the Empress corrects her in English, stern and unsmiling now before returning to Japanese. “You were to be nothing more than a foreign child prostitute when I killed that man who took you to Japan. You owe me. You promised to serve _me_ , and I expected your loyalty. But you ran away, so you have to face consequences, Becky, because _that is how this life works._ ”

It’s the truth, and Becky hates it.

The Empress’ lips curl again into a charming smile. “The Prince bought you a chance when he arranged a deal between me and the Flairs. His influence in Japan was useful, so I gave him face and didn’t hunt you down. But he left Tokyo without a proper heir to his little kingdom, and I had to expend a bit of energy securing my territory from that idiot _._ What was his name, Shirai?”

“AJ Styles, _Kōgō-heika,_ ” says Io.

“He left the Bullet Club after a while, causing a huge mess, and now it’s in the hands of Tama and Omega. Them, they’re okay, they know the rules,” the Empress says. “But enough about that stupid club. This is about you.”

 _Here it goes._ “What do you want me to do?”


	2. Chapter 2

“This is bullshit,” Finn snarls. “I _paid_ for your life. For the Flairs. Three hundred thousand damn Euros. Fucking hell.”

“She said the payment was for her not to hunt me down and kill me,” Becky says softly. Her hands are trembling. She has forgotten how scary the Empress can be, without ever lifting a finger. Her current lieutenants, Io Shirai and Kairi Sane, were Becky’s training partners back then. Shinsuke Nakamura has always been an enigma to her, but Finn and even Joe will not cross him - Nakamura has a reputation of being able to slither out of any trap and returning when he's least expected to finish a job.

The bar is entirely devoid of customers, and the shutters are down. It is eerie to have the bar this quiet in the evening. 

Sasha is nursing a bump on her head. She’s otherwise unharmed, though embarrassed at having been abducted after her dental appointment at Bedford Drive. Her wife, Bayley, is drinking a bottle of chilled water, looking furious, her fingertips drawing lines through the condensation dripped onto the table. She watches Becky closely and asks, “So Sasha isn’t going to be hurt?”

“No, she’s not the target.”

Joe watches her. “Who’s the target?”

“Someone Charlotte herself might have hurt.” Paige turns the tablet around and passes it across the table so Joe can look at the information. “Mandy Rose.”

Scrolling down the page, Joe frowns. “I’m not getting the link.”

“Mandy Rose Saccomanno. She’s an actress, but more importantly, the daughter of New York’s attorney general, Charles Deckard Saccomanno. I hear she’s here in town for an audition.” Finn shrugs and sips his whisky. "Tyler was prattling on about it last week. I wasn't paying much attention, to be honest." At their unimpressed expressions, he protests, "He was wearing bright pink hot shorts and a lace crop top! I was distracted."

"Irish horndog."

"Fuck off."

Sasha makes a rude noise. “So this Empress person can’t take Charlotte down now that Charlotte’s taken over the reins from Ric, and she's going to frame Charlotte instead?”

Finn glances at Becky. "It's what I would have advised if I were still in the business. Mire Charlotte in this sort of shit, and while she’s distracted, expand my own territory."

Becky drinks her whisky. “I shouldn’t have run when I was in New York. Let her kill me then. Be easier on everyone.”

“Did she hit you on the head? Do you have a concussion? Actual brain damage?” Sasha scowls when Becky rolls her eyes. “Then stop talking stupid.”

Bayley says, “She dies, you live. That’s how we’re doing this.”

“But Bayley-”

“If she just wanted Rose dead, she’d have sent Nakamura. She wants _you_ to do it because this is _fun_ for her,” Joe says. Exchanging a dark look with Finn, the big man continues, “We can’t go to the cops, obviously, and we can’t _not_ do it, so we might as well do it fast.”

“Mandy Rose is innocent in all of this,” Finn points out, solemn and quiet.

“I don’t want to have to hire someone new because my old waitress is decapitated.”

"And I don't want to have to explain to Stafa what the hell we got you into, because he _will_ find out."

As the two men begin to argue, Becky glances at Paige. The brunette is not smiling, her red lips pressed together tightly, and her fingernails tapping slowly on her forearm. Sasha leans against Bayley, her eyes closing with fatigue.

“I’m not killing Mandy Rose,” Becky says, when the two men pause for breath. “There must be another way to deal with the Empress.”

Bayley raises a hand, careful not to jostle her wife. “Any chance we can speak with Charlotte?”

***

Finn, Sasha and Bayley leave together. Paige goes to the office to get on the Grapevine; the Good Brothers are out on a job in Tennessee, and she needs more information on Shinsuke Nakamura. Joe heads to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner. Becky trails after her boss. She isn't sure what she can do, and she hates feeling useless.

“You should be helping Paige.” He takes ingredients out of the fridge and washes his hands with soap.

“You’ve never asked about my past in Japan.”

“Why should I? I don’t plan to share mine with you.” Joe glances at her, with something close to a sneer, and goes back to rinsing the vegetables. “Your past is over. I don’t give a fuck about it.”

Becky snorts. “Well, too bad. I’m gonna tell you anyway.”

She knows - she knows very well - that Joe _does_ care, that he indulges her and Paige because he knows, but she wants to tell him in her own words, instead of whatever Finn has told him. It’s only fair, after all. Joe may be a stingy asshole of a boss, but he’s _her_ stingy asshole boss, and he’s always watched out for her and trusted her to watch his back on more than one occasion.

“When I was ten, my ma died. Never knew who my dad was. I was bundled off to a distant grandaunt, someone on my ma's side. This guy, he said he was my dad's brother and that my dad was dead. He offered to raise me, but he had work in Japan. So my grandaunt let him take me on a flight all the way across the world." Becky exhales. "I didn't even know what was happening because I was told to wear this very pretty white dress, then taken to this old building, lots of middle-aged men, all speaking a language I didn't know. There were other girls - my age or younger - some Japanese, a black girl, a few white girls. I was the only redhead."

Joe pauses in his chopping of tomatoes. "You were at an auction."

"Yeah."

"I've done three jobs at auctions. Disgusting places." Joe goes back to dicing tomatoes, with slightly more vigor.

"The Empress showed up and just... She walked in, masked, and then started shooting. I remember standing and watching as man after man collapsed, screaming in pain before she ended their sorry lives, and the other girls were shrieking and crying. Then she shot the guy who said he was my uncle, right in his throat, and I watched him die. Burbled his breath right in front of my eyes. I was the only one who didn't cower, so she took a liking to me, took me under her wing."

"Must be nice."

"I learned to fight. To kill. I was an enforcer and a tracker. The only foreigner in her inner circle.” Becky smiles humorlessly. “Occasionally, I was a go-between, negotiated some shit. That’s how I got to know Finn.”

Joe is now working on onions. Once again, he demonstrates that he has zero tear ducts. “Then she sent you after the Flairs?” 

Becky shrugs. “She wanted to go international, and the biggest market for something like Tomorrow is Wall Street, the bankers, all that shit. Ric wanted a larger cut of the profits, the Empress wanted him out of the picture.” She looks at her left hand, where a ring used to be. “I was supposed to get rid of him and figured I could get close to him via his daughter.”

Joe scoffs. “And you fell in love like the pathetic schmuck you are. You’re an idiot.”

“That’s Ms Pathetic Schmuck to you, big guy.” Becky smiles wryly. They both know it’s a bad idea to have feelings. They cannot be in this business and love anybody; that’s just one way to get hurt real bad. 

But Joe has found _his_ guy; Mustafa is away at his sister’s with his parents, the whole gang of them having a big party for his twin nephews’ birthday. It only took Mustafa leaving the police force and Joe retiring as a hired gun, but they’ve done it. (She suspects that Mustafa is turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to Joe’s side gig as a consultant for some of his regulars, but that’s between the two lovesick dopes.)

“Anyway. Fell in love with Charlie, proposed, decided to come clean, and just before I could, Charlie got stabbed in the subway as a warning to me, and her old dad gave me money to break Charlie's heart and leave.” The redhead sighs and shrugs. “And here I am now.”

Joe shakes his head. “Alright. So we know the Empress is patient, ruthless, willing to hurt the innocent...”

“You getting to the part where we can outsmart her yet?” Becky snarks at him.

The big man glares at her. “She has to be staying somewhere in LA,” he says. “She’d want to be sure you did her bidding this time. It’s what I’d do if I were her.”

“Los Angeles is too fucking big,” Paige grumbles, wandering in from the office. She brandishes the tablet, showing the other two a page full of rental listings. “I’d guess that they’d stay around the same place, but not in the same apartment or house; it’d be easy to guard - not this, not this - and not too conspicuous-”

“It’ll be ostentatious, actually.” Becky takes the tablet. “This is the woman calling herself the Empress. Her headquarters are in an entire building in Shibuya, _Ashita no Ie_ , the House of Tomorrow _._ She’s not interested in a low profile.” She scrolls down the listings until she finds what she’s looking for. “This one. Owned by a Japanese artist... _Fuck._ ”

Rinsing his hands, Joe takes the tablet. “What?” Then he sees the name of the owner. “The _fuck._ Fucking Nakamura has property in his own name in Los Angeles and none of us knew?”

Snorting, Paige mutters, “We should all retire like Joe. We really _suck_ donkey balls at this, man.” 

“Ask Finn if he knew. Shame the smug outta him,” Joe suggests, glee in his voice.

“At least we know where the hell they’re holed up.” Becky leans back and rests her ass on a counter. "We can surveil them." 

With a short laugh, Joe takes the tablet and closes it. "You assume they aren’t watching _us_." He pauses. "Stay in my guest quarters tonight, both of you. She won't slit our throats tonight, at least."

***


	3. Chapter 3

Becky can’t sleep, though she tries for an hour and forty-five minutes, lying on the bed with her eyes closed. She decides to raid Joe’s personal stash of booze, and finds a bottle of Stalinskaya Silver in the back of the cabinet. It’s illegal to sell it in the States, so she wonders if this is something he got on a job in Romania. It’s already half empty. While she is debating if she wants to finish the vodka or grab a different bottle, someone turns on the kitchen light.

“If you’re trying to get drunk,” says Joe quietly, “I have some rotgut I brewed. It’ll knock you out, and you won’t be wasting good vodka.”

Becky raises an eyebrow and grins. “Bring out the rotgut.”

Joe smiles and shakes his head. “Don’t bitch at me tomorrow if you get a hangover.”

The homebrew that Joe pours for her goes down like a shot of gunpowder mixed with the cheapest bourbon on the market. She scowls and makes a rude sound. “Boss, this _sucks._ ” She slides the tumbler over. “Gimme more.”

“I use this to clean my drains.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if you’re joking and right now I don’t care.” The redhead tips her glass to Joe and downs the second measure just as quickly, wincing and sticking out her tongue. “Fuck. That is _foul._ ”

But the drink is potent, which is what she wants; by her third shot, she can feel her mind softening around the edges. By the seventh, she knows that she has to lie down soon.

“Boss man, I’m not sure I can get through this one,” she says, staring at the clear brown liquid, her chin on the back of her hand resting on the table. The meniscus of the lighter fluid Joe brewed looks golden in the light. 

She’s not talking about the drink.

Joe sighs and leans his beefy forearms on the table. Becky wrinkles her nose and pokes his left elbow, where there is a small puckered scar. He smacks her hand aside. “If you want to die, then tell us directly. Save us the fucking trouble. Otherwise, let us do what we do.”

“Mustafa won’t like you helping me kill someone though.”

“He wouldn’t like you killed either.” Joe reaches over and ruffles Becky’s hair, causing strands to fall in front of her face. 

The brotherly gesture brings tears to Becky’s eyes, and that confirms for her that she needs to go to bed if she wants to wake up mostly functional. _Fuck functional._

“It’s not about me,” she mutters and sits back. Her gaze meets Joe’s. He is a mountain at midnight, the dangers hidden in the shadows. “Charlie doesn’t deserve any of this shit. It’s gonna become her business and it’s not fair.”

“You ever contact her after you came to LA?”

“No. The last time I saw her was at the airport. She caught me before I checked in, and threw the ring I gave her at me. Her dad told her I took his money, and she just...” She huffs and finishes the drink. “Shit. Man, what the fuck did you put in this?”

Joe only shrugs. “One more?”

Becky waves a hand in the air, as if to ask “why not”, and topples off her chair.

*

“You’re killin’ me here,” Becky groans when Paige draws the blinds mercilessly, and burrows deeper into her blanket. Then she drags the other pillow over her head to better block out the light. God, her breath is _sour_ and her eyelids feel like they're made of sticky flame.

Paige tugs the pillow away, the _monster_. “Bayley’s on the way with news. And Finn’s bringing Tyler. Come on, make yourself presentable.”

 _Paige is too loud._ “Do I have to?” Becky whines. Her throat is lined with sandpaper. Maybe someone can rip it out of her.

“You reek of cheap booze, so yes. Go wash up. And for the love of all that’s unholy, use lots of mouthwash.” Paige yanks the blanket off of Becky. “Go on.”

Becky sits up and scrubs the back of her head. Her brain is about to explode from her orifices. The idea is darkly satisfying, especially if Joe has to do the laundry to get brain matter out of the sheets. “I’ll do it if you promise to murder Joe for the shit he brewed.”

“You knew he made it and you chose to drink it. It’s your own damn fault.” The brunette smacks Becky lightly on the top of her head.

It's as if a sledgehammer smashed into her skull. Becky rolls into a fetal curl with a groan and squints at the woman she thought was her friend. “I’m glarin’ at you. With vengeance. I am picturing your violent and disgusting end. Squishy brains. Squirming guts.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Paige kisses her friend's cheek. "Love you too."

It takes a good half an hour for her to be done with her shower and another fifteen to brush her teeth, throw up, and brush her teeth again, the second time with resentment at Past Becky. By the time she gets out among the living, Tyler’s happily perched in Joe’s lap and talking nineteen to the dozen, complete with hand gestures and terrible accents, while Roman is in the armchair shaking his head in amusement. She grunts at Tyler when he calls out “Good morning Becks!” and heads to the kitchen.

At least the coffee is decent and hot. No breakfast though, so Joe is still on the Kill List.

Finn emerges from Joe’s office with a coil of white rope. “Your rope guy’s on holiday so I’m borrowing this until I can get some more,” he tells the big man.

Tyler perks up. “Is that meant for me?”

“Ask nicely,” says the Irishman.

Becky slouches into the living room and flops onto the rug, setting her coffee on the coffee table. “Where’s Bayley?”

“Looking for parking,” Paige says. She’s seated on the sofa next to Joe, and pinches Tyler’s butt. “Pretty boy, hop off my boss for a bit. We have serious business.”

Groaning again, Becky lets her head droop forward. Maybe Shinsuke can put a bullet through her skull.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tyler asks. 

“She drank my rotgut,” Joe answers, sounding smug.

Finn tuts. “That thing should be classified as chemical warfare. How much did she drink?”

“You still hold the record, don’t worry.”

“Awesome.”

The _comedians._ Becky will saw through their dicks with an Exacto knife, and feed their cocks to each other, and then skewer them through their livers with rebars. Then she’ll get more creative.

Thankfully, Bayley shows up with three boxes of donuts and Becky immediately takes one box for herself. Chocolate peanut butter should be renamed lifesavers. She exchanges a classic cinnamon with Paige for another chocolate peanut butter. Only after she has devoured four does she feel capable of conversation.

“What’s the news, B?” she asks. Her voice is rougher than it usually is.

Bayley pushes her hair out of her face. (Becky finds it odd seeing her with short hair, but Bayley’s now the lead stuntwoman for a protagonist on some sci-fi show, so she has to have the same hairstyle for editing purposes.) “Charlotte is coming to Los Angeles. Beverly Hills. Apparently, she’s hooked up with Andrade Almas.” Her mouth twists with sympathy as she glance at Becky. “I got good intel that he’s really into her too. They’ve been on each other’s Instagram pages a lot, and she’s been on his yacht in Mexico.”

“Oh, so you’re talking about Charlotte Flair!” Tyler claps his hands together. “She’s a _knockout!_ Super smart and capable too. Did you know, her line of foundations is outperforming nearly everyone else’s? Also, her custom blushers are perfection. Andrade is totally head over heels. And - you didn’t hear it from me, by the way - and he is gonna _propose_ soon. I’m so excited! Queen of New York’s cosmetics and personal wellness industry meets King of Latin American pop. The wedding will be so glamorous and amazing, I’m almost jealous.” Almost hastily, he says to Roman, “Not that we need a blowout wedding, babe.”

Roman grins at him. “Good, because I can’t afford one.”

Becky has deliberately avoided checking on Charlotte’s activities ever since they broke up, so this is news to her, and it hurts. Nonetheless, she maintains a nonchalant air that borders on indifference. “Good for her. He’s a successful and handsome dude.”

Paige clears her throat. “Thanks, Bayley. Tyler, is there any social event in the near future where you’re gonna meet Andrade or Charlotte?”

The blond frowns slightly. “Okay, I know I probably shouldn’t ask, but you guys gonna hurt them or... you know? Because I like them, and I don’t know if I want them to be, um. Hurt.”

“We’re not gonna hurt them.” Becky smiles at Tyler, although her eyes are burning and sore and her head is pounding. “I promise.”

Though he still looks a little doubtful, he says, “There’s a party next Friday evening to celebrate Andrade’s new album. I guess that’s why Charlotte’s flying in? I’m invited by his manager Zelina Vega.”

“Just you?” Joe asks.

“Well, me and my entourage of my personal assistant, my bodyguard... Roman’s invited too but he has work that night, don’t you babe?”

Roman nods. “Car auction. There’s a beautiful vintage Lamborghini that Tyler’s set his heart on.”

“It’s an Islero. I’ll paint it midnight blue,” Tyler says. “Assuming Maverick does get it for me. I’ve seen the specs and I already love it.”

Paige interjects before the car talk can go further. “And do you know Mandy Rose?”

“Heard of her. Seen her around at a couple of functions, but we don’t move in the same circles. She looks like a bimbo but I heard she’s pretty sharp. She took some plebeian jobs around town too, apparently. Receptionist, secretary, data entry... But she auditioned for a fairly big role in the new Star Trek movie, and Chou told me over drinks that she was quite good. She’s in the shortlist.”

Finn looks thoughtful. “Pretty down-to-earth for an AG’s daughter.”

“She probably wasn’t born into money,” says Becky. “And with her dad being who he is, she has to keep a low profile or risk his reputation.”

Roman asks, “Why are you guys asking about Mandy Rose?”

Silence descends on the group. Finn glances at Becky, then at Joe, and back to Becky. Finally, he says, “We are facing a spot of trouble is all, and may need to build connections with her father. Don’t fret. Princess isn’t going to be implicated in anything.”

“It’s my shit,” Becky puts in. “Bayley and Paige are helping me out, and Finn knows Charlotte too. That’s why we’re asking. We’ll deal with it, don’t worry.”

Roman doesn’t seem convinced, but he says nothing else. He and Tyler leave first, the latter kissing Joe and Finn farewell and hugging Bayley to thank her for the donuts.

Once the coast is clear, Paige says, “Shinsuke has an address near the hills. In his name.”

Finn’s eyes practically pop out of his head. “The fuck. How-” He rolls his eyes. "Fuck, I've definitely grown complacent."

“That was our reaction too,” says Joe. He sighs. “So, we’ll make contact with Rose first, and then with Charlotte?”

“If we contact Rose and don’t kill her, the Empress will know what we’re trying to do,” says Becky. She closes her eyes. She can picture Charlotte as she was, back when they were young and Becky almost chose love. The way Charlotte tied her hair back for their workouts, the smell of her shampoo, the way Charlotte loved silly socks and wore them around their crappy apartment to save on heating bills. “We gotta engineer it so that Mandy Rose and Charlotte are at the same event. The release party. We make contact at the party itself, and hope to God that by then, we’ve come up with a plan that’s not completely idiotic or suicidal.”

Joe snorts. “Well, Finn and me will work on that plan. Becks, you’re with us, even though you're as useful as a moldy sock right now. Paige, dig up contacts or friends who can inveigle an invite to that party for Rose. Bayley, you’re our resource person. Think you can find out what the Empress has got in her armory? Can’t think of how to counter her moves unless we have some clues.”

Bayley’s expression darkens. “That bitch hurt Sasha. I’ll find out what she has in her goddamn underwear drawer if it’ll help me get to her.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Torture alluded to.

Shinsuke’s residence in Los Angeles is in a cul-de-sac in the Bird Streets, a modern single family home with a stark white exterior and black geometric lines. Zillow tells Becky that it has two levels, five bedrooms, two baths, and was bought at six million dollars back in 2014. What Zillow does _not_ tell her is how many people are living there at the moment, and whether the theater or wine room has been converted to hold weapons, and if the Empress is still in town at all.

Becky’s not familiar with the neighborhood, but she knows that most houses around Hollywood Hills use one of four security systems, and so it’s relatively easy for her to break into one of the unoccupied homes that give her an unimpeded view of the road. Her former co-workers have to eat, so someone must head out to dine, shop for ingredients, or order in. For the past four days and three nights she has watched Shinsuke’s home in Thrasher Avenue. 

Tomorrow is the release party. Mandy Rose is an invited guest - Sasha is the domme of a producer who worked with Andrade, and she got him to invite Mandy Rose as a potential lead for one of Andrade’s music videos. Between tonight and tomorrow evening, Becky must try to get rid of Shinsuke Nakamura. Otherwise, there is no way she or her friends survive this.

Finn and Joe are probably mad as hell right now. They told her to stay put, lay low, to stay out of it while they sort out the matter, but Becky has never liked being a damsel in distress. The Empress is _her_ problem, and she’ll solve it her way. She’s turned off her phone and left it in the guest room back at Joe’s place. It’s better if Joe and Finn and everyone else don’t know where she is and what she’s doing. She knows they are going to be pissed when she finally returns to work, but she can manage their anger. Better that they are alive to be angry at her than for them to be hurt or killed trying to help her.

(Though, when Paige finds her, Becky will have a whole ‘nother problem.)

So far, Becky has only seen Shinsuke and Kairi. Kairi has become prettier, her hair now a sweet pinkish-chestnut shade, and she’s usually the one picking up lunch at the gate from the Uber guys. At around sunset, a deep blue Audi Infiniti with tinted windows leaves the premises, and it doesn’t return till well past midnight.

It’s not a pattern set in stone, but time is of the essence. Becky is ready to infiltrate Shinsuke’s house. There are thick shrubs on the boundary line, and fairly steep slopes on one side of the property. Going down the slopes will lead her to the infinity pool in front of an open plan kitchen and dining space, and below that is the theater and home gym. There is no way she can sneak into the premises without being seen, but the hazy quality of the evening light provides a measure of protection.

The gate slides open soundlessly at six forty-two. It’s already quite dark, which suits Becky fine. She waits until she loses sight of the Audi before she crosses the road. Her flaming red hair has been dyed a dark brown, and her hoodie is a nondescript faded green that blends into the shrubbery and trees. Once she’s certain no one is coming out of the house, she slips into the vegetation, following the slope, and then clambering over to land on the terrace of the upper floor.

So far, so good.

The house is so silent, it’s spooky. She keeps her Beretta Vertec in her right hand - a gift from Joe when he retired - and gets out of the open plan kitchen and dining space as quickly as she can, going down the stairs to see how Shinsuke has altered the space.

The theater is still a theater, apparently, but Becky knows better. A few knocks on the padded walls later, she’s found a gun safe; the stand holding the popcorn maker also gives her samples of Tomorrow: little oval pills stamped with the Empress’ mask on one side, and a stylized ‘T’ on the other. She takes three, slides them into her pocket, and moves on.

She finds nothing incriminating in the home gym, nor in the utilities room, though she takes note of the _.G.L.O.W._ wristband left by the sink. It’s a new club, very exclusive at the moment; Becky and Paige have a wager on how long before it loses its shine. With the lower floor examined, she has to decide if she should get out now while no one knows she’s here, or explore the upper level where the bedrooms and home office are.

*

“I’m gonna implant a tracking chip in her _neck_ once we find her,” Paige snarls, slamming down a sheaf of papers. “And how the fuck is it possible that no one on the Grapevine wants to take the job?”

“I guess the payout isn't worth the trouble.” Sasha drums her fingers against her beer bottle. Her nails are a glittering blue today, painstakingly applied by her newest client, a sex-repulsed young pianist who wants to serve others with her hands - hands that have been heavily insured. It’s an elegant _‘fuck you’_ to the parents who have pressured her all her life, who have protected her hands from all possible strain other than touching the ivory keys of her piano for the past twenty-seven years.

Joe takes the papers from Paige and scans through them. “These are confirmed contacts?”

“As confirmed as third-hand accounts can be,” replies Paige.

Sasha plucks the papers from Joe and leafs through them. Then she frowns. “I know her. Naomi. She owns a number of clubs around town. Latest one’s called _.G.L.O.W_. Hottest nightspot for the week.”

“Get the hot ones hooked, their hangers-on follow, and that’s a fairly steady stream of income,” Joe remarks. “What’s the address?”

Sasha exchanges a knowing look with Finn. Both of them know they can’t ask Tyler to help them get inside the clubs. (Tyler is clean now, and has been for years since he submitted to Finn and Joe, but it will be irresponsible for Finn to put him in the way of Tomorrow.) 

“What does Bayley have on the Empress?” Finn asks.

“We got a name. Asuka.” Sasha tilts her head and stares at Finn. “She was working for the Dojin-kai.”

“Not based in Tokyo, though they do have an office. But that explains the drug trafficking and the violence. She’d have built connections through Dojin-kai’s dealers and suppliers.” Finn sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “And they don’t have allies, so I won’t have leverage to dig up more on her.”

Joe asks, “Is Dojin-kai the ones using grenades and machine guns?”

“Yep.”

“Fuck.”

Sasha gets it. She’s like Finn, in that if pressed, they can kill whom they need to, but neither of them like taking money for it. Joe was an assassin for hire, but he killed on a small scale: one target at a time, and as little collateral damage as possible. Gangsters like the Dojin-kai yakuza don’t care who gets caught in the crossfire. Messy and bloody. If the Empress - if Asuka’s like that, then they have to be prepared for splash damage.

_And where the hell is Becky?_

Finn’s phone buzzes. He stares at the number with a scowl before putting it on speaker. “Finn speaking.”

_“Hello, everyone.”_ It’s the Empress, speaking in English. _“One of you should go to 9141 Thrasher Avenue now.”_ There is a long pause, the woman’s amusement almost palpable in the air. _“If you are late, then she may die. Then someone else will have to kill Mandy Rose for me, okay? Okay! Bye bye! I go have sushi now!”_

“Red, you dumbass.” Joe stands. “Finn, you drive.”

*

Becky breathes steadily through her nose, although it is becoming harder to not react to the torture. She doesn't feel cold despite her state of undress, which is the one small ray of light she can cling to. Kairi and Io made sure to leave her in only her bra and underwear, just in case she was hiding knives or other nasty little weapons.

(There was a time when the three of them went to _onsen_ bathhouses together. Bonding while drinking sake in steamy hot springs. A lifetime or two ago, she had loved these two women as sisters.)

She has multiple cuts along her bare legs and over her breasts, with salt and lemon juice rubbed into the wounds, courtesy of Kairi. The youngest of them all, she has grown up under the tutelage of the Empress and Shinsuke Nakamura and Io Shirai; Becky thinks that, given time, Kairi will likely be the most terrifying of the lot.

But now Kairi is bored of slicing Becky up, and goes to make a cocktail for herself. Io Shirai lounges against the bar counter. Becky’s Beretta is dangling from Io’s fingers, as disdainfully as if it was a dead rat she is holding.

Shinsuke circles Becky, a shark contemplating his prey. “You show more resilience than you used to.”

It's always strange seeing Shinsuke move. He has his own rhythm, his long stride pausing or speeding up sometimes to break up the monotone of pacing. He looks pensive as he observes Becky.

“Break her right hand, Shinsuke-san,” Kairi suggests cheerfully from where she’s perched atop a bar stool."Break her fingers one by one."

It was sheer bad luck that Becky was caught just as she was leaving. She did manage to fire off three rounds, but Shinsuke ducked the shots before Kairi knocked her to the floor with a folding chair, and then slammed her in the head with it.

It’s that same chair Shinsuke has tied Becky to, to add insult to injury, and he has also taken the precaution of dislocating Becky’s shoulders. He cocks his head and studies her, like he used to study the massive anatomical painting in the Empress’ home back in Tokyo. 

“The Empress wants you to kill Mandy Rose,” he says in Japanese. “Why can’t you just follow orders? What were you trying to find here, Becky? I thought you were smart.”

“I was hopin’ to find a lesbian orgy,” she replies in English with a contemptuous grin, “but I guess we were both disappointed.”

He tuts, before taking her left hand and strokes the back of her hand gently. “I have missed your quick tongue,” he tells her, switching to flawless English now. “The new ones don’t dare to talk to me. Maybe they find me scary.” He smiles at her, oozing sincerity. “I wonder why.”

“Yeah! You’re so nice and friendly,” Kairi chirps up. “And you’re a great teacher too.”

“Right?” Shinsuke shakes his head. He does not let go of Becky’s hand. “Io, do you want to demonstrate what I have taught you last week?”

The woman sweeps her long hair from her temple and shucks off her fur-trimmed leather jacket. Her eyes meet Becky’s, and she offers her a ghost of a smile. “Long time no see, Becky.”

Shinsuke lets her take Becky’s left hand. “Remember, she still has to carry out the task for the Empress.”

“Her right hand will be okay.” Io nods in understanding. Out of nowhere, she pulls out a fishing hook. She puts the sharp tip just under Becky’s thumbnail. Becky feels every muscle try to contract and shrink away.

She has done this before. Shinsuke taught her this too, along with other creative ways to use a fishing hook.

And judging by the proud expression on the man’s face, he remembers having instructed Becky.

“Ooh, ooh, wait, I want to see.” Kairi hurries over and stands beside Shinsuke.

Io smiles at Becky. “Scream when it hurts.”

Becky screams.


	5. Chapter 5

Finn drives as fast as the speed limits allow. Now was not the time to risk being pulled over. Next to him, Joe is silent as the grave. Finn can’t read his expression but he can feel the rage and worry pouring off him, and doesn’t blame him at all. 

It’s not the first time Becky has got herself in trouble, but it is the first time they are dealing with a well-connected opponent the likes of the Empress. Neither of them have faced Shinsuke Nakamura either. As far as rumor goes, Shinsuke is wily, creative, a sharpshooter, and deeply loyal to the Empress, all of which are bad news. There was little on Io Shirai and Kairi Sane outside of what Becky told them. Like her, the two young women were saved from auctions, and the Empress took a liking to them. 

(“The Empress won my respect when she shut down all auctions in her territory,” Becky said when they were gathering intel, and shared how the Empress had handed her to Shinsuke to train: how to fight, how to hurt, how to shoot, how to kill. “I wasn’t the best student - too impatient. Io is probably the one who really understood his lessons.”)

“Have your gun ready,” Joe says as they turn into the lane leading to the address the Empress gave them and stops by the path. “Given your crap shoulder, I’ll have to carry her. Cover me while I get her.”

“They could shoot us both.”

“They could, but they want to show us that they’re not afraid of us. No, Becky’s just a reminder of what lengths they are willing to go.”

The Bird Streets are lit well, but the trees and tall walls provide places where a sniper can hide. It’s quiet - not unusual in these rich neighborhoods - which means that, if there is a gunfight, then cops will swarm the place. It’s reassuring, almost, but Finn knows better than to be lulled into a sense of calm.

They see a figure sprawled in front of a house, covered in a dark towel and a bundle of what appears to be clothes at their feet. Shinsuke Nakamura is lounging by the gate. Wearing a big grin on his face, he waves at Joe and Finn as they slow to a stop. 

Finn doesn’t kill the engine. He does lower the windows, though, and both men point their guns at Shinsuke. Then they hear guns being cocked, the sounds coming from either side of the road. Io and Kairi, most likely. It's just a reminder: _If you shoot, so will we. And you will lose._

“She’s alive,” Shinsuke says, motioning to the person on the ground. He doesn’t even seem bothered by the guns aimed at him. “Pardon me, I cannot invite you inside.” He cups his hand around his mouth and stage-whispers, “The Empress doesn’t like her privacy invaded.”

Joe ignores Shinsuke. He doesn’t even open the door. “Red, I need to see your face.”

The person groans and rolls over to flip Joe the middle finger. It is Becky, her hair dark instead of flaming red, her face pale as a sheet, and she’s undressed to her underthings. “They whipped my feet, you prick. I can’t fucking stand.” Her voice is much raspier than usual, but she’s speaking, so Finn feels a weight fall off his shoulders.

“You should not be sneaking into people’s homes,” Shinsuke says in a chiding tone as he wags a finger.

Joe alights the car, his Glock always trained on the tall Japanese man, and walks to Becky at a quick clip. He wraps her up with the towel and hoists her into his arms in a bridal carry.

“My clothes,” Becky says, and tries to grab the bundle on the floor. 

“Here, let me.” Shinsuke saunters over and picks it up, setting the clothes on Becky’s belly and patting her on the head. A chill shoots down Finn’s spine at the man’s utter nonchalance, knowingly going that close to someone as dangerous as Joe. “We wait for good news, yes? Because we trust you, Becky. We trust you to do what you are told. Like old times.”

Finn waits with bated breath until Joe has settled Becky in the back seat and the big man takes shotgun. Then he speeds off to Joe’s bar, feeling Shinsuke’s eyes on him all the way back.

*

Paige slaps Becky once Sheamus verifies that there are no internal injuries. “That’s for scaring the shit out of me, you fuck.”

“Sorry,” says Becky. The fingertips on her left hand are bloody messes, and the soles of her feet are swollen. Sheamus administers the necessary treatment and passes the painkillers to Paige. Becky protests, “Shouldn’t I be having them?”

“I’m sure they have questions that you have answers to, and you’ll need to be awake to speak. Before anyone starts asking anything, I want out of here.” Sheamus pulls off his gloves and nods at Finn and Joe. “If you want more oxy, you gotta pay market rate.”

“Thanks, Sheamy.” Becky lets her head fall back on the pillow and waits as Finn walks Sheamus out. Joe is still lurking in the corner of the room, while Paige mutters under her breath while she puts away the pills. Becky sighs. “Listen, I need a notepad and a pen, and I need the guys to leave the room.”

“You making a will?” Joe snorts. “Should’ve done that before you almost got yourself killed. Should’ve got yourself killed, in fact. Save us the trouble.”

“Joe!” Paige snaps. Then she adds, “And take away the satisfaction of killing her ourselves?”

Becky rolls her eyes. Her left hand is pulsing with pain, and her feet are sore and numb, the stinging pain already faded to a tolerable throbbing of agony. “I found addresses and dates, okay? It was a choice. High risk, high reward.”

“They stripped you. Did you memorize the info?”

“Nah.” The redhead grimaces. “I have a few balls of paper tied up in a condom and the condom’s up my vag. I need to root around and I’d prefer not to flash my bits at you, boss man.”

Joe snorts again and stands. “Should’ve stuck them up your asshole, Red.”

“That’s nature’s pocket for you guys,” she shouts at him as he leaves the room.

Paige shakes her head in resignation and ties her hair back. “Guess I’m stuck playing gynecologist,” she says, pulling on a pair of surgical gloves from the well-stocked first aid kit.

Becky smirks at her. “Hey, I don’t just let any woman finger me.”

“Oh, what a privilege. Be still my beating heart,” Paige retorts dryly. “Alright, girl. Let’s see what you’ve got up there.”

*

Bayley and Sasha come by after midnight, the latter having had an appointment with the guy who got her an invitation for Mandy Rose, and the former having to work for the day. Finn’s working the bar, a rare occurrence, and Paige is circulating among the tables. Sasha leads the way to Finn and the crowd, all waiting for Finn to serve them their drinks, parts for her. 

“Bloody Mary?” Finn asks. He used to work the bar back in his club in Tokyo.

“Not now.” Sasha glances at a patron with her eyebrow arched expectantly. He freezes, and immediately vacates his seat at the bar for her, tugging his companion away as well. 

Bayley takes the other seat. She slides a flash drive across to Finn. “She’s been making friends around town. Film execs, producers, the usual movers and shakers. But the one she’s been hanging out with the most is Naomi McCray.”

 _She_ refers to the Empress. 

“From the looks of it, her main motive of coming to Hollywood is to seed this town. This whole thing with Becks is just a side quest,” Bayley adds quietly. 

Finn slips the drive into his back pocket. “Thanks, girls. That’s good news. Becky’s upstairs if you want to check on her. Idiot almost got herself killed.”

“Did she get good intel?”

“Yes, Sasha, she did. Don’t ask how she got it out.”

“Now you’ve got me curious.”

*

The intel that Becky smuggled out is very useful. Shipping dates, three addresses, and a company name: Paige is already checking them out when Sasha and Bayley get upstairs. Becky’s asleep, the pain pills having knocked her out, so the three women dig out beers from Joe’s fridge, and Paige tells them exactly how Becky got the papers out.

“Have you heard much about Charlotte?” Sasha asks Paige, her bare feet on the couch.

The Englishwoman shakes her head. “Becks doesn’t talk about her ex.”

Bayley burps and wrinkles her nose. “I’ve met her. Didn’t know she was Becky’s ex at the time. She was pretty, but, you know, soft. Unsure. Like she didn’t know what she was capable of, not at that time.”

“She’s different now, then.” Paige scrolls through her phone to bring up a YouTube clip. “This is her now.”

The video shows a statuesque blonde with a stunning smile standing next to Andrade Almas, dozens and dozens of flashbulbs lighting them up. Charlotte is muscular, very unlike the blondes around Hollywood, but not overly bulky; her short glittery golden dress is accessorized with diamonds around her wrists and on her earlobes, and she looked flawless. There was no hint of shyness whatsoever as she walked the carpet of the Grammys with her boyfriend.

Sasha sighs. “Man. If I had muscles like that, I could domme a dozen more men with _ease_. Throw them around the way Drew can.”

“I can see why Becky might regret breaking up with her,” Bayley muses aloud. “She’s gorgeous and obviously knows how to make money. Confident as hell, too.”

“She probably became confident after Becky broke up with her. I must admit, Charlotte traded up, if she’s ending up with Andrade. I’ve seen his shirtless pics and, whooo. Charlotte has got herself a specimen of a man, at the least _._ ”

“Don’t gossip about Becky behind her back,” Finn chides as he enters the apartment, Joe behind him, “without us here to join in.”

Joe frowns at the beers. “That’s Mustafa’s stash.”

“You can buy more, sugar daddy.”

“Don’t ever call me that,” Joe tells Sasha, and places his tablet in front of them. “I downloaded the document Bayley gave and it seems like Naomi is the one who invited the Empress over for a collaboration. Paige, the stuff Becky gave you - whose name are they under?”

“The company is Trinity Entertainment, and the owner is someone named Trinity Knight.” Paige sips on her beer. “It’s probably Naomi McCray’s alias or real name, I don’t know which. Separate tax forms and identifications, but I have found no photos of Trinity Knight. I mean, nothing at all.”

“Paying taxes twice, maintaining covers as two different people... That’s some dedication,” Finn muses.

“Eh, not that hard. Just gotta keep the paperwork separate, that’s all. And the best way to keep under the radar is to not break the law.”

Everyone turns to stare incredulously at Bayley. 

Her eyes grow big and round as she says, slowly, “I guess...?”

“I’d check your wedding papers if I were you, Sasha,” Finn drawls. 

Sasha grins at her wife. “Believe me, I will.” Her smile disappears. “So, tomorrow evening. Finn and I are gonna join Tyler’s entourage. Paige is driving. Joe?”

“Babysitting Red to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. Again.” Joe rolls his eyes. He looks tired; Sasha hasn’t known him long, but she doesn’t remember him looking this fatigued. It’s clear that Becky’s little escapade has worn him out. “What about Bayley?”

“I’m going to pay a visit to G.L.O.W.” Bayley smiles crookedly. “I have a feeling we’re gonna need to know the layout of the place.”

Finn folds his arms and leans back against the sofa. “It’s really hard to get into. Not gonna disparage your hotness, Bayley, but right now the bouncers are not allowing just anyone in off the street.”

The stuntwoman scoffs and downs the rest of her beer. “Who do you think I am? Becky? I’m gonna go with my new BFF. If I gotta be her stunt double, she can go with me to a nightclub, and I _know_ she’s been dying to go to that club.”

“That’s settled then.” Joe stands. “Keep me in the loop. Now get out of my home.”

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place about a year after the events of Playroom.


End file.
